To What We Have
by Lynn Kroto
Summary: Adding to their already long list of problems and things to fix in Haven City, Torn alerts Jak and Daxter of a rising threat that could literally destroy the entirety of the city before it does anything good for the man that hired him: Praxis.
1. Chapter 1

"Ah, Cherries!" Sig said in his deep booming voice. "I thought you would never come." He stepped out of the bushes, Metalhead armor clanking and shining in the hot sun that beat down on the pumping station. Jak stopped a few feet from the taller. Daxter rolled his eyes, jumping off into the sand. The Golden grains made a crunching noise under his paws.

"Listen Big guy," he said, pointing an orange furry finger up at Sig, "you have _no idea_ what we've been through to get here. There are Krimzon guards all over the place!" Jak took a step forward, pushing Daxter out of the way with his foot. The smaller glared up at him, sticking out his tongue.

"Torn sent us to Krew, who told us to find you out here. What are we hunting? More Metalheads?" he asked, crossing his arms. Sig's eye darkened and he looked around. Dax raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"What, you scared, Sig?" Sig grunted, looking back at them.

"No, but you should be. Praxis's got a bunch of those Krimzon crawlers lurking in the pipes under the pumping station, and they're causing a whole lotta problems."

"Problems?" Jak asked, frowning and raising his eyebrows.

"All supply shipments to the Underground pass through the pumping station before moving onto the city. However, with those guards patrolling, all of Torn's supplies are getting intercepted and confiscated faster than we can order back-ups."

"So? Order from somewhere else," Daxter said pointedly, rolling his eyes. Sig turned and walked out from the small grove of palms, onto the loud pumping station. It whirred away, and Sig raised his voice.

"No can do, Shorty. Torn doesn't roll that way, 's far 's I know. He's a stubborn one."

"But if this is the Underground's business, why is Krew involved? And why you? Torn could've told us himself," Jak said, following quickly. Daxter climbed back up onto Jak's shoulder.

"Who knows?" Sig replied, shrugging. "All I know is he takes orders from the Shadow, and we all know how he can be."

"Don't even get me started, you have _no_ idea." Dax said, adjusting himself more comfortably on Jak's shoulder.

"So what are we supposed to do?" Jak asked. Sig unlatched the Peacemaker from his back, resting it one his shoulder.

"What we always do, go fry some Krimzon asses," Sig said with a laugh. Dax laughed too, only his was slightly hysterical.

"Easy for you to say, Tough Guy! You don't have those nasty boogers chasin' you night and day." Jak scoffed, pulling out and loading his gun.

"That's fine. Anything that's bad for Praxis is good for me."

"You're both crazy," Dax said, rolling his eyes. Sig chuckled, leading the two past the pistons and around to the side of the station. There, by the waterside, was a gap in the wall, easily large enough to fit a man though comfortably. The two men stood by the gateway, looking in. It was dark, and stray drops of water splattered onto the stone steps that lead into the depths of the pumping station. Daxter jumped to the ground, peering out from behind Jak's leg.

"Oh no. No, no, no! I am not going in there. No way, no how, and I going to walk into that Hellhole- with you two." Daxter said, voice high pitched and he shook his head violently. Sig laughed, thumping the Ottsel on the head before stepping into the hole in the wall.

"Suit yourself," he said, then waved Jak in. "Come on, Kid, we got a lot of work to do." The yellow-haired male followed. Daxter's ears perked up, and he scrambled on all fours to the mouth of the pumping station.

"Wait, Jak, you're not gonna leave me here with those Metalheads, are ya?" But Jak had already been swallowed in darkness, his footsteps downed out by the tapping of water droplets. Dax sighed, walking into the station, ears drooped. "Alright, fine, I'll go. But one mess up and I swear I'll-" Just then, a pipe groaned loudly overhead, and he yelped, skittering into the blackness. He practically fell down the stairs, screaming all the way, landing with a crash at Jak's heels. The taller turned, glaring at the shorter. But the seemingly unfriendly gesture turned to a small smile of amusement. Daxter picked himself up, brushing gravel and dirt off of his orange fur.

"Nice of you to join us," Sig's voice said as the broad-shouldered man stepped out from the darkness. Dax jumped, then groaned. He clambered back on Jak's shoulder.

"Alright Wise-Guy,"' he smirked, "what'dya want from us?" Sig turned, armor making another loud chorus of clanks. The eyes of his Metalhead skull shoulder armor lit up, sending an audible shiver down Daxter's spine.

"Just keep your eyes open and your gun loaded," Sig said, stepping up to the first pipe. It was wide and tall, enough so that both Sig and Jak could walk side by side, and stand upright. It was eerie too, water drops splashing into puddles on the curved floor. Sig rolled his shoulders and the eyes of the Metalhead skull shined brighter, sending strange green shadows onto the wall. A drop of water hit Daxter's ear, and he flicked it off, rotating his head around.

"This place is kinda creepy, don'cha think Jak?" he asked, curling into a smaller ball upon the taller's shoulder.

"Shh, Dax," the yellow-haired male whispered as Sig dimmed the lights. The tunnel was getting more narrow, and soon, they found another pipe, branching left from the main. A flickering yellow light was swinging from a cord on the wall, the edge of the light being swallowed in the darkness. Sig pointed the Peacemaker down the tunnel carefully, eying it before moving on. There were several other tunnels like that, each enveloped in its own level of creepiness, or so Dax decided to point out under his breath. Jak smiled, amused until Sig stopped them.

"Listen."

"What?" Jak asked.

"I don't hear anything," Daxter said.

"Shh!" Jak said suddenly. He and Sig exchanged glances and, with a nod, they advanced down the pipe. Quickly and carefully, they darted across the way to another pipe, looking down the dimly lit tunnel. There were several boxes, stacked here there and everywhere, and two Krimzon guards, one leaning on his gun, the other, the wall. Sig took several steps back into the pipe, motioning for Jak to follow.

"What's the plan?" Jak asked.

"I'll kill the first one, you stun the second one. We need answers, and he's gonna be the one to give 'em to us, whether he likes it or not." And, without waiting for conformation, Sig lept out, pointing the Peacemaker at the first guard. A shower of red lasers flung themselves at the first guard, killing him instantly. Jak extended his own arm, pulling the trigger on the second. The scatter gun knocked the second guard over as he was scrambling to pick up his gun. He was thrown against the wall, and at that moment, Sig tackled him. He wrestled the Krimzon guard to the ground, putting him in a head lock. He nodded to Jak, who knelt next to the captured guard. Daxter, meanwhile climbed onto the stack of boxes, watching.

"How many others are here?" Jak asked with a growl in his voice.

"You're that eco freak, aren't you?" the guard asked, a smile most likely staining his tattooed face that was under the red helmet. Jak stuck the barrel of the gun under the guard's neck, forcing it up at an extremely uncomfortable angle.

"I asked you a question. How many others?" The guard stayed quiet, shaking his head. With one glance from the other, Sig tightened his grip. The guard bent over more, before managing to cough something out.

"Seven." Jak stood, taking a few steps backwards. Daxter jumped off a stack of boxes, landing in front of the guards face. He sneered.

"Not so tough are you, ya little-" but the rest of his insult was cut off when Sig twisted his wrists, snapping the guard's neck cleanly. Dax's eyes grew big, and his ears dropped. "You had to do that when I was right there?" he asked weakly, staring at the pure white bone sticking out of the guard's neck before following the other two down the pipe.

"Gotta get things done, Daxter," was all Jak said, before loading another round into his gun. The Ottsel shook his head, but followed.

"Besides, we don't got all day," Sig said, waving them down another tunnel. With that, they headed on to the rest of the guards. However, they did have all day, for the sun was sinking on the horizon when they climbed back out of the hole in the wall. The green star was bright overhead, mingling with the smog-dappled sky. Sweat drenched, bruised, and completely exhausted, Sig and Jak stopped back at the little cluster of palms. Sig stuck the Peacemaker into the sand, leaning on it. He sighed.

"Well done boys, the supply system is back online. The Shadow will be very pleased to hear about this."

"Then we shalln't wait another minute," Dax said sarcastically, turning on his heel and starting off across the sand.

"Thanks," Jak said to Sig as he followed.

"No problem Cherries. Come back anytime." Jak turned and jogged after Dax, who was already waiting at the gate. After the first section opened, Daxter spoke up.

"Oh, won't the look on Torn's face be priceless." Jak shared in a laugh and was about to reply, when the gate to the city opened, and all Hell was revealed. Smoke clogged the skies, and tall pillars of flame shot up into the air. The boardwalk was on fire, buildings crumbling into ashes, crushing the bridges and power lines, that sent blue sparks dancing across the water, setting even more things aflame. A rotten stench stained the air, and it was filled with noise. People screaming, gunshots, and somewhere folded into all of that, was the faint pop of small explosions. The two stayed motionless for a second, before Jak's arm shot out. Grabbing Daxter by the scruff of his neck, and plopping him on his shoulder, he tore down what was left of the boardwalk.

There were very few zoomers in the air, but as soon as he found one, he jumped to it. It was a guard motor-zoomer, Jak found as he grabbed onto the edge of the seat. Swinging himself up into the seat, he kicked the guard in the head, sending him down into the flames. His foot on the hover petal, Jak pushed back on his heel, lowering the zoomer into hover mode. Now close to the ground, Jak pulled his red scarf over his mouth and nose, lowering his goggles over his eyes, Daxter grabbing onto the folds in his shirt. Jak squeezed the gas handle, and they shot off into the chaos.

At first, it was hard to navigate. They had to shoot their way through piles of rubble and debris more than once. Jak bowed low over the handlebars, leaning into every turn. They were shot at by other guard ships, caught in the middle of fire, yet they managed to make it out of the smog and into the outer limits of Haven City. The chaos was more subdued, but there was a noticeable lack of patrols in the slums, making it easier to go through the city undetected. Jak still kept the speed high though, he was fuming. As always, he firstly blamed the obvious devastation on Praxis, which he knew for a fact was true. But some of the blame also went to Torn and the Underground, who were responsible for keeping them informed and alive, preferably.

After several minutes of silent driving, they peeled into the alleyway that housed the HQ of the Underground. Jak lept off of the zoomer as it crashed into the door of one of the crumbling buildings. He yanked down his scarf, and pushed his goggles back. Daxter jumped off his shoulder, brushing soot and grit out of his now dull orange fur.

"Man! That was crazy!" But as he looked to Jak for approval, he found the taller was already halfway down the alleyway. "Woah, calm down Buddy," he called. Jak's body language was enough to show that he was frustrated. His fists were clenched at his sides, and every time Daxter tried to get his attention, he was brushed off and ignored. The gray door to the Headquarters slid open, and Jak stormed down the stairs. The room at the bottom was as it had always been, warmly lit and cluttered as Hell. Maps of all kinds, posters of the Baron and other ghastly political officials, and plans marked up in red were plastered all over the walls, and overflowing onto the circular table in the middle. Torn was pouring over one large map in particular on the table, so completely focused, he didn't notice the other's arrival until Jak was standing across from him.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Jak demanded, slamming his hands on the table. Torn's head jerked up to face him, sneer on his face.

"What does it look like? Praxis's blow up the entire Goddamn boardwalk!"

"Oh, well thank you, Captain Obvious!" Daxter said, jumping up onto the table. "Tell us something we don't know." Torn glared, green eyes like shards from a broken glass bottle.

"How about this? Praxis hired a bomber last week, and already he's blown up a fraction of the city. If we don't stop him, he'll have the rest of the Underground smoked out. We tried to evacuate the entire North-East corner of Haven, and even then most didn't make it out. All of them- dead. Just because the Baron wants to scare the locals, and it's workin' alright. Even the Shadow is shaken with everything we've lost." He shook his head, before looking back up at the two standing before him. "Speaking of loss- did you get the pipes cleared?"

"Yeah," Jak said, eyes turning hard, "we did. _And_ we went to Krew to find out. That's none of his business."

"It's more his business," Torn spat, "than you might think." Jak leaned across the table.

"What's going on here?" Torn rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, but looked behind him cautiously.

"Alright, I'll spill." He put his hands on the table, leaning in. "The Shadow has got some new rules, serious restrictions. Ever since the supply line was intercepted, he's been real careful about what passes from mouth to mouth in the Underground, _especially_ from mine. So I sent you to Krew, since he runs all of the city's sewer trans-pipelines for the cause." Daxter jumped up on the table, scattering maps everywhere. Torn glared.

"So wait a minute. You're telling me, that the Shadow isn't trusting even you?"

"In times like these," Torn said, "I'm surprised he trusts anyone." Jak was still pissed to no end, fuming inside at how Torn was flowing with the Shadow like people weren't dying outside the safe-house.

"But the Underground is about revolting against tyrannical government, not adopting a new superpower like the Shadow," Jak said. Torn's green eyes took on a sharp glare that Jak had seen too often, one of hostility. He leaned across the table again, pointing a finger at Jak's chest.

"Listen mister, don't think I don't know what I'm doing. I've been in this for years, I've been inside that palace, and let me tell you, the Baron is _far_ worse than anything the Shadow could be. He's capable of even worse, more dangerous, things morally and physically than the Shadow could ever dream up. But as far as I'm concerned, if you're not for the Shadow, you're _against_ him. Neither I, nor anyone else in this rebellion, will tolerate anyone, or anything," he turned his glare towards Daxter, who stuck his tongue out, "who threatens our existence. You're getting into far more trouble that is safe for the Underground to be exposed to. I'm surprised I still keep you two around." They all exchanged hard stares, before Torn jabbed Jak roughly in the chest. "Now, if you two pussies are done being stupid, I've got work for you to do." He turned around, digging in some drawers. Daxter blinked a few times.

"Work? Listen Smarty-Pants," Daxter said shrilly, pointing his finger, "why would we work for you after _that_ little speech?" Torn pulled out what he was looking for, turned, and slammed the red leather bound book on the table, making Dax jump.

"Because I'm the only thing that keeps the Baron off your back. So are you in or not?" Jak crossed his arms, leaning on one leg in an almost casual fashion.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's this work?" he said. Torn smiled one of his rare smiles.

"That's what I like to hear." Torn started rummaging through the many maps, charts, and papers, until he found a tan manila folder. He tossed it by Jak. "Zevin Renterina, our oh so helpful bomber friend. I used to work with him in the guard, until he was promoted, and I left to join the cause. Ashlien has been slipping us record books of names of the new recruits. About three years after I left the guard, his name disappeared off the record books. It's just started to resurface. Apparently he's been out to the Wastelands, had a bout or two with Krew, and next thing we know, he's on the Baron's good side. Taking him out means securing us another foothold in our plans." Jak, meanwhile, was flipping through the the folder. It was full of papers, official looking documents and several shots of a dark haired man. His face was decorated with the same tattoos that Torn had on his face, an obvious sign of a current or an ex-Krimzon guard.

"That's him?" Daxter said, raising his eyebrows in disgust. He was now looking over Jak's shoulder, reading along with Jak. The taller, however, wasn't interested in papers. He closed the folder.

"That's all we have to go off of?"

"All that I have. Krew might have more information, if the rumors are true. Head on over to the port, get all the information out of him that you can. You're gonna need it. Then make your way out to Ashlien in the Western Bazaar. She knows where Zevin'll be. You know what to do after that," Torn said, a ruthless grin on his face. Daxter climbed on Jak's shoulder.

"We're on it!" Dax said, and Jak turned out the door, giving one last glance over his shoulder.

"We're on it?" Jak asked, standing outside in the cold night air.

"Of course we are. I just forgot to add the 'in the morning' part," Daxter said with a laugh. Jak shook his head, but walked over to their crashed zoomer, still smoking a little. Climbing on, Jak drove them down the street, almost empty with night's dark and cold cloak, and drove down the thin alleyway to another crumbling building that looked similar to the one next to it, and practically every other building in the slums. Jak brought the zoomer to a stop, climbing off and pushing open the door to a faded gray building. It creaked open on rusty hinges, opening to a hallway, and a set of stairs. Daxter jumped off, climbing up the stair as fast as his legs could carry him.

"I'll beat you up," Jak said with a laugh, taking the steps two at a time.

"Not fair!" Daxter said, bounding up after him. They raced up three flights of stairs to the fourth floor, to door number 407. Out of breath, and with a bit of a smile stuck to his lips, Jak pulled a key out from one of his many pockets, unlocking the door. Dax ran in between his legs, jumping up and hitting the light-switch by the door. A soft yellow glow spilled over the space, containing nothing but a couch, a table, and an armchair, none of which matched anything else in the room. The walls were bare and the paint peeling. The kitchen they never used was tiny, and the back bedrooms, of which there were two, weren't much better. Jak dropped his gun by the closed door, sighing.

"Home sweet home, Dax," he said, sounding slightly disappointed, though he wasn't. In truth, they were both glad to have found that dumpy place for their down time. Daxter skittered across the carpet and into the kitchen. He opened the cupboard, scanning the few items in there for something to eat.

"Do you want anything?" he asked. Jak shook his head.

"No, I'm just tired. Thanks though."

"Alright. Goodnight Jak."

"'Night Daxter," Jak said before turning down the short, darkened hallway. He didn't bother turning on the lights when he reached the second door on the left, simply pushing open. The window facing the desolate street was covered in a dark blue curtain, tattered and worn with the years of being exposed to the weather. A rickety old bed was pushed up against the wall, barely big enough for two. A dresser was leaning against the opposite wall, one drawer only half closed. The lamp on it didn't work, but by now, Jak had gotten used to fumbling around in the dark, figuratively and literally. Which was what he was doing then, fumbling around in the near-darkness, pulling of his boots, his clothes. Stripped down to just his soft cotton pants, he collapsed back onto the bed, feeling the wear of the day eating at his skin.

It seemed like that everyday, lying there under the thin sheets, counting new bruises and thinking of everything he had to do the next day. There was never a down minute, as much as he'd liked to think there was. And every possible resting period was full of more thoughts about Praxis and everything that happened to him down at the prisons. Those long painful two years of having dark eco pumped into him still revisited him on nights like that, nights after a seemingly relaxed day at war. He lay there, feeling his blood pulse through his veins. It felt thicker than it had years ago, more a sludge like poison that infected him, a disease to which there was no cure.

He spent lots of time brooding like this, as he tried to fall asleep. Time that he could be spent lost in dreams, he chose to suffer in the world awake. Why? He felt he had to. It was easy pain, a kind that would come and go at a moments notice. And he wanted to feel it all, to have the fire in him to finally, once and for all, kill Praxis and find the Metalhead nest. He had vowed, the minute he'd realized the rift was actually a time machine, that he would find his way back home again. If that meant killing the largest superpower in the known world, then so be it.

Turning over, Jak cringed at a bruised rib that he lay on. He faced the window, staring with blue eyes out into the distance. He rolled back over onto his back, yawning. He had to get to sleep, enough torture for the day. If his life was Hell, his dreams were far better than heaven. When he dreamed, well, that was his real escape. In his sleep, he could see old memories of sunny beaches, of a town practically made of rain. Of orbs just laying around all over the place, Precursor artifacts laying around every other corner. Of a certain teal-haired girl whom he'd watched the citadel close up with. Gol and Maia still visited his nights every so often, however they weren't ever scary anymore. But it always seemed to be Samos, or the Shadow, as he was now called, or any other of the sages that were most present.

More often than not, he dreampt of the day Daxter became an Ottsel. He still laughed over it. How they stole the fisherman's boat, went to Misty Island like they were specifically told not to, how Daxter had fallen into that vat of dark eco... Laughs stopped at that point in the dream, for Jak knew what that stuff did. Dax was lucky to be alive and not a total monster. With that last thought, how lucky the other really was, he fell asleep to dreams of the past.


	2. Chapter 2

Daxter, meanwhile, closed up the cabinets. He wasn't hungry tonight, not for food, anyway. He turned off the lights in the kitchen and the living room, leaving the house completely dark. He wandered down the hallway, into the first room on the right, the bathroom. He fished around under the sink, until his paw wrapped around a wax candlestick and a small box of matches. He lit the wick, plopping the green candle into it's holder on the sink, where he pulled himself up onto the white tiles and looked into the mirror. Or, looked at it, really. It was covered in grime and dust, but in spots, he could see patches of orange fur. Carefully, with a not-much-cleaner rag, he wiped away as much of the mess as he could, leaving the mirror clean-ish. It was fill of cracks and pits, and Daxter's face. He sat himself down, head in his paws.

It was a long time since he looked in a mirror. A long time since he had to see his fuzzy orange face, his tail, and even longer since he'd seen skin. His own skin, tan colored and no fur. It's been over four years since he was human, and he looked back on it often. He still remembered being able to balance without a tail, what it felt like to be as tall as Jak, to be as human as the next man. He missed it. Now, it always seemed he was too hot under all that fur, always too short, voice too high pitched to ever be taken seriously. Being an Ottsel had its up's, certainly, but as of now, sitting alone in front of a mirror stained with his own reflection, Daxter couldn't seem to find them. Just like that antidote he'd been promised all those years ago, at Sidnel Beach, which kept him going. Until he realized the ones trying to kill him were the only ones who could save him. Even after sacrificing his humanity to 'save the world', he still had a little flicker of hope in him. Of course that light had died after the Krimzon guards captured Jak, and he was left alone for two years.

Two years.

The worst years of his life. Two long years alone, in an unfamiliar place, with all sorts of new dangers and things he wasn't used to. There were the guards, who, as often as they overlooked him, would come charging after him, guns firing away. He remembered scrambling away after Jak had been captured, into a darkened alley, watching as they carried his best friend away. The weeks following seemed a blur of confusion, of nights awake, watching for danger, of days asleep in doorways and alleys for safety. Those weeks turned into months, which developed into a year, and after that, Daxter discovered the palace of Praxis.

He knew, the moment he laid eyes on it, that that was where Jak was being kept. It was instinct, his moral compass pointing north again. After that, he spent every waking moment around that palace, looking for ways in, looking for Jak. It was only when he was sure there was no other hope, that some careless guard left a window unlocked. Daxter crawled around inside the palace, and it was several long, timeless months later that he found the prison cells, and even longer before he found Jak. He saw his friend a few days before he actually rescued him. Having already secured a constant way in and out of the palace, he snuck out, with the risk of losing his friend -again- on the line, he stole from the bazaar (as he had done countless times before) some clothes for Jak, and returned back to the prisons.

To his relief, Jak was still there, still being pumped full of dark eco. It was after another period of time that Jak's cell was occupied by the Baron and the Commander, and then shortly afterward abandoned, cell being empty except for Jak and Daxter. It was all downhill from there, and from that day on, Daxter had been fine for once. He had his best friend, and life was good. But recently, he'd been noticing a lot of things. Well, noticing wasn't the word. It was more like... Reality had come back and slapped him in the face. He was still an Ottsel, Jak was some kind of monster, yet somehow exceedingly popular amongst the rebellion, Samos didn't remember who they were, and they were far from home. That's what they had thought, at least.

With all intentions of returning back to Sandover Village, it certainly came as a big surprise when they found the outer city limits was indeed their old home, eroded and wasted away with thousands of years of decay, evolution, and time. Now, looking back into his face in a cracked mirror, it was like looking back to the days of crystal clear ocean water, of carefree days when he was human. Human. It always went back to that. To the fact he gave up his humanity to save the world that they left only shortly afterwords and that was already doomed to future chaos and destruction. The sacrifice was pointless, and Jak didn't seem to notice it, no one seemed to notice it but Daxter.

His orange paw touched the cool surface of the mirror, tracing the circular shape of his face, his ears. He laughed to himself. What a fool he was to think back on all that. It wouldn't do him any good now, now after all this time had come and gone in a haze of war-torn days. Peering out around the door frame, down the dark hall, he heard no movement, sensed nothing but quiet. He looked back into the mirror one more time.

"Don't fool yourself," he said quietly. "You're never turning back."

-In the Morning-

Jak mumbled something in his sleep, turning and whacking his wrist on the bedside table. It jolted him awake from dreams of the old times, and for a moment, he thought he as there, waking up from a long night's sleep on the beach. Until, he realized, the hazy daylight was coming from a window, not the sun itself. Sighing, he climbed out of bed, sore for some strange reason. He stretched, but stopped midway. Sunlight. He became frantic then, understanding what time it was. It had to be at least seven, which meant they'd slept in far too late. He threw on his clothes, sprinting out the door.

"Come on Dax, we have to go!" Jak said, pulling on one boot as he made his way down the hallway. He had expected to find Daxter up and ready, having more sense than Jak sometimes. But he was asleep on the arm of the couch. He was snoring, orange chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he took. "Daxter!" Jak shouted, and the other jolted upright.

"I'm awake! I'm awake," he said quickly, and then jumped onto Jak's shoulder as the taller ran past. "Geeze Big Guy, why ya in such a hurry?" the Ottsel asked as Jak locked the door behind them and sprinted out the door.

"We're running behind schedule," he said as he opened the door to the streets. The slums were the same as usual. Hot, dusty, crawling with guards, citizens, and zoomers. The only change: The KG radio was buzzing with talk of the explosion. He picked a zoomer off a local, and went into hover mode. Close to the ground, they gathered speed as the zoomer carried them, undetected, through the Industrial "Suburbs" and to the port. The water ripped as submarines traversed to and fro, and a few zoomers' jet-stream broke the surface. Jak leaned into the turn as he rounded the corner, pulling to a stop at the glowing neon sign of Krew's bar. The door slid open, revealing an empty bar full of Metalhead skulls, a pool table, and a blonde sitting behind the counter. Tess looked up, offering a small wave, but she shrunk back into her magazine when the whirr of Krew's floating chair buzzed in from the back room. The very large man eyed the two males with his real eye, floating slowly over.

"Don't say anything stupid," Jak whispered under his breath.

"Don't worry Jak," Daxter said, scoffing, "When do I ever say anything stupid?"

"Well now that you mention it-" but he was cut off when Daxter leaned an elbow on top of his head. Jak rolled his eyes, looking upward to see both Krew and Dax.

"Fancy seeing you here, boys," Krew drawled.

"Yeah, and we _certainly_ see you," Daxter said, rolling his eyes. Jak glared at him, and spoke up before the angry look in Krew's face became words.

"We need to talk to you."

"Well it just so happens," Krew said, floating over to the far end of the room, "that I need to speak with you as well. Maybe we can, what's the phrase, do a little _service_ for one another?" Jak and Daxter both exchanged creep-ed out looks, before Jak walked across the room to Krew, who was admiring one of his more recent trophies; a particularly large Metalhead skull mounted above the bar.

"We need to know about Zevin. Zevin Renterina." Jak leaned against the counter, and Daxter hopped off his shoulder, making googly eyes at Tess, who blushed.

"That name doesn't ring a bell for me," Krew said, dismissively raising a chubby hand and floating a little higher.

"We know you know him Krew. Torn said he came to you, after visiting the Wastelands. What kind of bargains did you two strike up while he was in town?" Jak asked. Krew eyed him suspiciously, tapping his fingers together. The rings on his chubby digits clinked together.

"Let's strike up our own little deal," he said suddenly, swooping down to face Jak. The man didn't flinch, though he hid his worried feeling well.

"What kind of a deal?" Daxter asked, having started paying attention. Tess had excused herself to the back rooms to retrieve something or another with a strained look on her usually calm face.

"I'll tell you what I know about this Zevin character, and you'll help me out a little." The other two exchanged wary glances. They both knew they'd wasted enough time already. Plus, they knew Krew's work from past gigs, and it wasn't easy stuff.

"What do you need?" Jak asked.

"A good friend of mine passed away recently," he said in his greasy voice, "and we had a little unfinished business that needs to be settled still."

"Listen," Daxter said, "if you want us to bring your friend back from the dead, you'll have to look somewhere else. We're not miracle workers." Krew glared, sneering before floating back up to the ceiling.

"I need you two to go to the central part of Haven city, The Eastern Bazzar, and look for something he hid. It's behind a sign on a rooftop, as I recall, a small package."

"There are over fifty signs downtown. You can't expect us to check them all," Jak pointed out. Krew watched them carefully, tapping his fingers together again.

"I expect you to find it and bring it back to me, then we'll talk. But if it arrives here in poor shape, I might rethink my offer." And, crossing his thick arms over his chest, he returned to a corner, and spoke not another word.

"But-but that will take us all day!" Daxter exclaimed.

"So?" Krew asked, clearly not interested in the slightest of ways.

"So," Jak said, now frustrated as well, "Zevin might have blown up a whole nother part of the city by then!"

"Well, that's your loss, isn't it?" Krew waved a hand at them. "Now go, I'm getting impatient." Jak glared at him, wanting to say more but knowing there was really no point to. Shaking his head, he turned on his heel and made for the door.

"I'm telling you Jak," Daxter whispered as they headed out, "he gets fatter and crazier every time we see him." When they entered the streets again, they found Tess, standing by a zoomer. Daxter's ears perked up. "Helllo Baby!" he said, hopping to her shoulder.

"Tess," Jak said, "What are you doing here?"

"Delivering a message. From Vin," she said, wringing her hands.

"Vin? Isn't he that weird guy we had to save from those Metalheads in the mines a while back?" Tess nodded.

"Is he alright?" Jak asked. Tess gave another nervous look to the door, as if Krew could hear everything that was going on outside. She lowered her voice even more.

"He asked me to give you this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bit of white paper, handing it to Jak. He took it, and Daxter, begrudgingly, returned to his shoulder. "Be careful," she added, voice hitting a worried note.

"Thanks Tess," Jak said. He hopped on the zoomer, and with Daxter waving to her, he took off across the street, over the waters of the harbor, and into the reaches of the city again. However, he stopped only a few minutes in, parking the zoomer in a darkened alley. He climbed off, taking out the paper. He unfolded it.

Jak-

I need help, badly. They're thinkin' about sacking me, because I can't "produce" for them fast enough. Praxis and the KG, I mean. Head over the my place as soon as you can for a few last favors on my part, and maybe one on yours?

-Vin

"Should we go now?" Daxter asked. Jak shook his head, folding it up and climbing back on the zoomer.

"No, later. We've already got a job to do. Besides, the Krimzon guards and his sacking are his problems, not ours. Our problem is Krew and his package." And with that, Jak jumped back on the zoomer and headed out into the city. Downtown, as expected, was busy and full of life. People walked around, keeping their faces low, and turning their gaze the other way when a guard walked by. And of guards, there were plenty. The bombing must have had something to do with it, for every snip-it of conversation that Jak and Daxter overheard was coded, secrecy at its highest. Their minds whirring with the numbers and words of the KG radio, the pair made their way back through the Industrial zone, and into the packed chaos of the Bazaar.

Coasting to a stop, Jak dismounted the zoomer. They had to go on by foot from here on out. There was no way they could maneuver in this kind of chaos. The dusty streets were packed with people, vendors trying to sell their wares from full kiosks, guards were talking on their radios. It was a busier day than they had seen in a while, and that would make their search so much harder. Cautiously watching the guards, Jak's keen ears picked up a few rumors from the KG radio of their seemingly "suspicious activity in the sector", but other than that, they went unnoticed, knocking shoulders with strangers then quickly disappearing into the crowd. They stopped by an out of the way building, under the cover of a shadow. Dax shook his furry head, looking around.

"There is no way, we are going to be able to look behind every sign!" Daxter exclaimed, "This place is huge!" He gestured around with his hands. Jak looked around as well, and agreed with the other. There was no way this was possible within a decent amount of time.

"Well," Jak pointed out, "we're not gonna get anything done if we just stand around. I'll go across the way, and you start on this side. We'll work our way in and-"

"What if," Daxter piped up quickly, "we just search over here, and then later, we can search," he pointed, "over there." Jak raised his eyebrows, confused. Jak didn't know of Daxter's insecurity with being alone in the city, having not known anything of the two years he spent locked away. He didn't know what Dax had gone through.

"Alright." Jak said, and Daxter let out a breath of relief. Latching his fingers into the cracks on the side of a building, Jak started the climb, to the rooftops of the baazar.

"I can't believe it took us three hours- to find this!" Daxter said, holding a small box wrapped in brown paper with both hands. Jak stood, hands behind his head. They were on a rooftop in the midst of Haven city's most popular baazar, air cooling with the coming afternoon. The sky was fading to a darker, deeper shade of blue, still light enough to see by. They looked from the box out to the streets, lined with very few people, but ever present were the guards, in heavier numbers than they had been before.

"Well now that we've got it," Jak said, walking over to the edge of the building, "we can give it back to Krew and learn more about this Zevin guy." Daxter joined him on the ledge, handing him the box.

"Maybe eheh, _you_ should carry this." Jak took it from him, tucking it under his arm as Daxter jumped onto his shoulder. The zoomer traffic underneath them wasn't heavy, so it was fairly hard to pick one off. They had to follow one into an alleyway before jumping down into the seat and knocking the rider out. With a method of transportation secured, Jak and Daxter took off to Krew, who wasn't as far away as he seemed. Maybe it was the anticipation of another step in the job, maybe not, but it seemed like three seconds passed until they were walking past the door, into the quiet bar. Tess wasn't there, and Krew was absent as well.

"Where's Short-Fat-and-Ugly?" Daxter asked.

"Krew?" Jak called, "We've got your package!" But there was no reply. In response to the silence, Daxter shrugged, pulling himself onto the counter. He looked around, finding a Metalhead skull he could grab onto. He walked over to one, hands on his hips.

"Look at you!" He grabbed onto the lower jaw of the thing, hoisting himself onto the beast's nose. He peered into the yellow skull inside the dark outer coating. He peered into its eye slits, lowering his nose to its head. He sniffed, then reeled back. "Eyuck! You're almost as stinky as Old Fish Breath." Then his ears perked up, and he turned to look at Jak, who was also inspecting a bust of a Metalhead. "Hey Jak."

"Yeah?" The taller turned.

"Do you remember that fisherman guy? In the Forbidden Jungle?" Jak smiled, reaching out and rubbing a thumb across the nose of the skull. He laughed.

"Whose boat we stole? I remember him."

"He reminds me of Krew. Pot-bellied and-"

"And what?" hissed a familiar voice from behind them. It was Krew, who'd flown out form the back room. Daxter jumped in fright, falling to the floor with a sickening thud. Jak's hand shot back, and he tried to suppress an embarrassed blush. Daxter hauled himself off the floor, moaning as he pulled himself back onto the counter. He rubbed his head.

"And, uh, unfailingly handsome?" he suggested, shrinking behind the counter as Krew glared deeply at him. Jak walked over to the counter, stationing himself at one end, and Krew stayed at the other.

"We've got what you want," Jak said.

"You've brought my package?" Krew asked, greedily rubbing his hands together. Jak slid it across the counter. Krew swooped down, grabbed it, and inspected it carefully. With a toothy grin, he set it upon a tall shelf, out of sight. "Excellent work boys, I must admit, I had my doubts," he droned. Jak stepped up.

"We did our part, now you have to do yours. We need to know about Zevin."

"Fair enough, fair enough." Krew floated down to their height, crossing his arms. Jak leaned against the counter, and Daxter climbed over it, plopping himself on a bar stool. Krew got right to the point."Zevin was, as you mentioned, a business partner of mine for some time."

"What kind of business?" Jak asked. Krew looked back over his shoulder at them.

"The only kind of business that gets you anything in times like these. He would smuggle barrels of red eco from the mines to me via sewer systems, and I would cater them off to suppliers who were going to get the boot, merely to keep them in business. The more they were frightened of sacking, the more they would pay. It was a way to mask up our little money making scheme. However, this wasn't meant to last, and as soon as the Baron began to get suspicious, Zevin scattered like a cowardly sewer rat. But not before he entrusted to me a few..._secrets_," he finished lavishly.

"Ooooh, secrets?" Daxter asked, leaning forward.

"Oh indeed. Secrets that Praxis would kill to get his hands on." Krew waved his fingers about, turning to face the other two. Jak scrutinized Krew's face, taking a stab at what those delightful secrets might be.

"Let me guess," he said, "more red eco?" Krew's eyes sparkled with greed.

"Oh, that and much more. He found a new store of red eco, deep under the Earth. There's so much, the Baron could satisfy the Metalheads for decades to come. Granted it would be extremely dangerous to get, but still. It would have been worth it for the amount Praxis would pay to drill there. Then there was..." he gave a thoughtful, suspenseful pause, "there was something else. He found several of these." Krew pulled a chain from under his shirt. Dangling off the end was a pendant, tan and full of decorative holes and a few sparkling blue gems. But most recognizable were the intricate markings covering the pendant. Jak and Daxter both exchanged glances.

"Precursor artifacts," Jak said quietly. He could feel the ancient power radiating off of it.

"There were more like this," Krew tucked it back under his shirt. "There were also other things, he said. Things far to big to move, but just as great."

"Where was this?" Jak asked quickly.

"Out past the mines, farther into the unknown than anyone has dared ventured. Zevin said there was a large abundance of Metalheads, and by the looks of it, he was close to their nest." Krew chanced a look at Jak and Daxter, and addressed their seemingly stunned looks. "Yes, it was quite a feat, but even then, he was still just a sleazy sneak in the end."

"Do you know where he went after that?" Jak asked.

"He made some mention of returning to the Wastelands, to go back to working in their force, but I had certainly heard a few other rumors."

"Rumors? Like what?"

"Like working in the Krimzon guard, or something akin to that." Krew waved dismissively again, something they noticed he did quite often.

"Well he certainly secured his position alright," Daxter said, rolling his eyes.

"Indeed he has," Krew said. "Now, if that's it..."

"One more thing," Jak said quickly.

"Yes?" Krew asked, and when Jak hesitated, he snapped. "Well, what do you want?"

"Did he say where the un-mined red eco was?" Krew's brow furrowed, and his gaze darkened.

"Yes, he did. But that's a fool's dream Jak. There is no way anyone could mine that amount of eco without drawing attention to themselves." They exchanged a few hard glances, before Jak motioned to Daxter.

"Come on Dax," he said, "we're done here." Daxter stuck his tongue out at Krew, who glared, then swooped back up to the shelf. The last thing they saw was the package being opened in Krew's greasy hands.

"Hey," Daxter said, "don't worry about it! Besides, we've gotta get this Zevin guy out of the picture before we can help Vin." Jak nodded, snagging another zoomer. He started for the back side of the port, until he noticed several tanks pointing their long noses at him, in which case he simply turned and headed right for the Southern Gardens entrance. The chaos from the city outside died away, and the number of red armored men drastically decreased. Jak pushed his heel back on the hover pedal, moving his zoomer lower to the ground, going even faster through the green stalks and over the dirt pathways. The air changed in the Western Bazaar, and they had to blend in more with the common people. This was the Baron's area, and the palace tower was clearly visible, even in the lazy clouds that rolled low in the sky. "Come on, pull over here," Daxter said, pointing to a small incrop in between two smallish buildings. Jak dismounted, and they carefully scanned the desolate concrete expanse.

"Did Torn say where she would be?"

"Out in the bazaar. We should probably keep it low though," Dax said, ducking his head as a gaggle of guards passed by, "She won't like it if we draw too much attention to ourselves." Jak scoffed, walking down the row of tall, clean, gray buildings, far nicer than the ones in the slums.

"When have you ever cared about what she says?"

"The day she tried to cut our throats."

"Which day?" And they both burst out laughing. As they rounded the corner, they came across the bazaar, devoid of most life. However, behind a small cluster of guards, stood a tall woman, tattoos on her face. She looked around, arms crossed, until her gaze drifted over to their direction. She looked away briefly, before her head snapped back over, and her eyes narrowed in cold anger. She stormed over to them, and Jak walked over to meet her. Before he got the chance to say a word, she was right up in his face.

"Took you two long enough," Ashlien said in her stony voice. "Where have you been?" She grabbed Jak by the collar, practically dragging him off his feet. He opened his mouth to explain Krew's package, but Daxter spoke up instead.

"You're cute when you're angry," he pointed out, smiling. Jak's eyes widened, casting an apologetic look at the other, a bit of a nervous laugh escaping his lips. She growled, tossing Jak aside and turning around.

"Yeah? Well stick around, cause I'm about to get real adorable in a minute." She stormed off down the street.

"Ashlien!" Jak called, running after her. When he caught up, he had to lengthen his strides to match hers. "What about Zevin?" She stopped short, looking over her shoulder at them.

"He's this way." She motioned for them to follow her, and they did, walking quietly through the streets, ducking into darkened passages when even one guard passed by. "He passes by this building every other week or so," she said, pointing to a short squat building nestled in between two taller ones across the street from their alley. "If you can make your way up to the rooftops on this side, you should be at a good vantage point for a clean shot. You'll know him when you see him." She reached behind a pile of boxes, pulling out a black, long barreled gun.

"What's that?" Jak asked.

"A gun, obviously," Daxter said.

"It's not just any gun," Ashlien said, "it's a long barreled sniper rifle, plus a silencer. You're gonna need it, if you plan to keep on Torn's good side." She handed it to them, and poked her head out into the sunlight. Quickly, Ashlien ducked back in, pressing her back to the wall. "I've gotta get back to work. Keep yourselves hidden, and don't do anything stupid." She turned back down the dark alley, disappearing inside a building. Jak looked back out to the street, then up at the buildings he was standing between. Dax jumped off his shoulder, trying to grab onto the side of the building. But the wall was smooth, hardly a blemish in the surface. He hit the ground with a thud.

"I don't think we can get up that way," he said, looking up at the rooftop. Jak picked Daxter up by the scruff of his neck, swinging him back onto his shoulder.

"We'll just have to go around the back then," he said, walking around to the backside of the building. There was a door that blended in quite well, and the added fact it was shadowy back there made Jak almost walk right by it. But Dax saw it, and lept off the other, catching the door handle and tried to open it. It was locked, as expected. "You're not getting in that easily, that's for sure," Jak said, and Daxter rolled his eyes.

"Well excuse me, Hero Boy. _You_ get through the big door then." So with one well placed kick at the dead bolt, the door fell off its hinges and into the building. Daxter stared, then shook his head. Jak smiled down at him smugly, crossing his arms.

"You were saying?"

"Shut up," he said, shooing Jak behind him and walking into the house. The taller laughed, taking a few long strides and passing the shorter.

"Hey!"

"Shh!" Jak hissed. "We don't know who's in here." But thankfully, there was no one in the place. It was just an old building, its tenants fled, on patrol, or simply out and about. They managed to find the stairs easily enough, several steel steps behind a door at the end of a hall. Daxter, the small and agile ottsel he was, skittered the steps, beating Jak even though the taller to them two at a time. There were a lot more steps than either of them had anticipated. They winded up, down, left, and right, until at long last, Jak come to a door. Alone, of course, seeing as Daxter had long since disappeared ahead of him. So he pushed the door open, it being but a crack closed. Daxter was already sitting on the edge of the building, tail and legs dangling in the air, when Jak reached the rooftop, winded. His blue eyes widened, and he grabbed Daxter by the back of his neck, pulling him down.

"Get down off of there. We don't want to be seen," Jak hissed, and Daxter nodded. Together, they spied down in the streets. It was several long moments of silence before they saw a familiar head of black hair, and several guards around him. They held their own guns, heads on a swivel to see if any dangers might pose a great threat to Praxis's new favorite. Dax squinted, eyes narrowing before getting wide.

"It's him!" he said quietly. Jak, in response, quietly pulled the gun off his back, to find it already loaded with one shot. Propping the gleaming barrel on the edge of the roof, Jak peered through the scope, pointing the nose of the gun at Zevin. Through the scope, he could make out the scars and tattoos on the man's square-ish face. He placed his finger on the trigger, moving the little red "X" in his view point onto Zev's head. His finger squeezed the trigger, and the ice blue eyes of their target lifted to the rooftop. As the quiet zing of the gun cut the air, Zevin was already sprinting down the alley, looking over his shoulder. Jak pulled the gun down, face draining of color. He looked to Daxter, who had his head in his furry hands.

"We fucked up, didn't we?" Jak asked. Dax nodded, moaning as he dragged his hands down his face.

"Torn is gonna kill us!" Jak rolled over onto his back, resting his hands on his forehead.

"Yeah," he said, sighing, "he is."


	3. Chapter 3

-Back at Headquarters-

Torn's hands were on the table, fingers clenched around a scrap of paper. His thin lips were pulled into a nasty sneer, and he growled, pacing slowly around the table. Jak stood, knees together, more ashamed than he had ever been. Daxter was standing on the edge of the table, shrinking away from Torn, who was right up in his face now.

"You what?" Torn's voice was shallow, dark and it scared the shit out of Dax.

"It wasn't _our_ fault!" he said, raising his voice in ill-placed fear.

"You fucking- I can't believe it." Torn put his head in his hand, growling. "You missed him. You missed Zevin fucking Renterina!" Torn, as angry as he was, kept deadly silent, and even Jak knew he was about to explode.

"Woah, calm down," Jak said, holding up his hands, "We can work this out."

"Work this out? Jak, do you realize what you screwed up? That man was our foothold for everything else I've been working on for months." Torn shoved all the papers off the table. They twirled through the air, cascading in a off-white flurry of wrinkled torn maps. Torn had his back to them now, rummaging through a desk to look like he was doing something. Daxter sighed, jumping onto the scratched table.

"Listen, we'll go back and fix it! We can always go hit again, say, next Tuesday, when he walks by again." Torn stopped, hands on the edge of the desk. His shoulders heaved up and down in short bursts of frustration.

"No, it'll be too late by then."

"Late?" Jak asked.

"Zevin is a slippery man. We've only been able to track him a few times," he paused, and when he spoke again, there was less anger in his voice, "but there is one location we know for sure. One place he goes more often than any other..." He turned to the drawers again, searching through several rolled up papers, until he found one tied with red string. He brought it over to the now clean table, untying it. The paper, which was actually a map, unrolled. It was a chart of the harbor, with a few other markings on it from other missions. Torn scanned the map, then looked up at the others. "Are you boys up for a little breaking-and-entering?" A gleam appeared in Jak's eye.

"Eh?" Daxter said, raising an eyebrow.

"You heard it. Anyway, it's been a plan for some time now, just in case, and it's a good thing we had it. We know where Zevin lives."

"You know where he lives?" Jak asked in pure amazement. Even from meeting him only once, he knew Torn was right; he was a very sneaky man. Daxter meanwhile, eyed Torn, then coughed rather loudly in his paw. A few more coughs, and the word "stalker" mixed in, Torn smacked him upside the head. With a sharp glare, he continued.

"We had an agent check up on it a few weeks ago, and only recently we confirmed the location."

"But he must live in the fortress with some other Krimzon guards." Torn smiled deviously.

"The good thing is, Zev insists on staying alone, in a small apartment up in the Stadium Sector. Problem is, he's paid for some high security to keep watch on him," Torn said, gesturing to five smaller green circles on the main map of the city. They were sitting in the water, all places strategically around one dark gray square on the map; most likely the bunker.

"Eh, we'll just blow right by 'em, right Jak?" Daxter said, nudging his friend.

"Not so fast," Torn held up a hand, "It's not that easy. Being the unfortunately clever being he is, Zevin has those turrets wired with an alarm system. If one goes off, all the other jump into commission. Not only that, but it sets off an alarm in his house, giving him time to escape, leaving you in the dust. Besides, even if you did get him in the house, he's got the insides rigged is a way around that problem, however. We know there's a switch to shut down those guns and his inner home security."

"Great," Jak said, "Where is it?"

"You'll need to talk to Vin. He's got plans for the whole power network for that particular part of the city." Torn said.

"Will do," Daxter said, an almost proud intonation.

"Now get your skinny asses out of here," Torn growled, glancing with piercing green eyes looking over his shoulder. But the boys, to his relief, were already out the door and in the streets.

-In the Industrial part of Haven-

"Jak?" came a shaking voice from the circular room. The lift Jak and Daxter were riding clanked to a stop, and the sliding door opened. The room in which they were now was quite the sight. It was covered in two panels that ran the curved length of the main floor, and there were hovering screens and wires everywhere. Blue and orange sparks shot from sockets, lights blinked from buttons, the loud hum of Precursor machinery, and in the middle of it all was Vin. He was, as always, wearing his white lab coat, and his gray hair was messier than usual. When his eyes rested on Jak and Daxter, he broke out into a smile.

"You came!" he cried, running and throwing his arms around the taller of the two. Jak held up his hands, very uncomfortable to say the least. Vin backed up, hands shaking at his chest. He wrung his fingers together. "You got my note?" he asked.

"Yep," Daxter said. Vin sighed.

"I would have given it to you myself but-" and he stopped. Jak raised his eyebrows.

"But what?"

"But the guards have been looking for me! I stay in here all day, in hopes they'll leave me alone and stop pestering me for eco! My time's running out. Is there anything you could do?" Jak thought for a moment, wanting to help his friend, but not having any idea how.

"We can try, but I can't promise anything." However, as vague as that response was, Vin clapped his hands in delight.

"Thank you, thank you! But how rude of me, you're expecting something in return, yes?"

"Well now that you mention it, I would like a hot tub," Daxter said. Vin looked helpless, staring blankly at the other. He rubbed the back of his neck worriedly.

"A, uh, hot tub? Um, sure, I guess."

"Yes! And while you're at it-" Daxter started, but Jak clamped a hand over the Ottsel's mouth.

"Forget about that. What we really need is information regarding the security system in and around an apartment in the Stadium Sector. The man who lives there blew up the boardwalk, and he works for Praxis." Vin jumped backward, then skittered over to a screen covered in Precursor writing. He began tapping away, pulling up a map there, then quickly walking to another where he pushed more buttons.

"I know of the place you speak. It's very tricky..." he said, concentrating hard on the screen, biting his lower lip, "but I think I can get you what you need."

"We need anything he has out of commission," Jak said. Vin gave another nervous jump.

"I-I'm afraid I can't shut it off from here. The primary power lines haven't worked in ages. I do know," he paused, "another way. There's a secondary power channel-."

"Hurry up, we ain't got all day!" Daxter said, crossing his arms.

"Oh" Vin said to himself worriedly, pressing several buttons, "yes, uh, power grids. That I can do." Jak and Daxter both exchanged ruthless grins. "Now," he continued, voice wavering, "the off switch to his security network is in the palace commons, so Praxis can keep an eye on him, but it requires a pass code, which I can get for you..." He tapped away at a few more screens and buttons, before a machine at the end of the panel began to whirr loudly. Daxter jumped off Jak's shoulder onto the machine, looking into a black slot near the top.

"Woah! What is this?" Vin let out a little "eep!" noise, before running over to him.

"That's the printer, Daxter," he said.

"Oh," replied the Ottsel, watching it carefully. The scanner light came on inside, and it spat out a strip of blue paper covered in white numbers. Vin checked over it, then handed it to Jak.

"Do not lose this. There will be a keypad by the entrance to the palace. This is the combination. Type it in, and it should tell you if you've disabled the security or not."

"Should?" Vin blushed, rubbing the back of his neck again.

"Well, eheh, it's been some time since it's been used. There's still... _debate_ as to whether it actually works or not, since it's so far away from the primary source of power and several breaks have been reported around the uh, heheh..." He looked up sheepishly. Jak, fuming, pushed him against the panel. The screens changed, things went all out of whack, and poor Vin and his OCD could do nothing about it, for he was pinned by two strong arms, connected to a very angry Jak.

"You're just telling us now?" he growled. Dark eco sparked around him, making Vin shudder and shrink away.

"Jak..." Daxter said carefully, as to not upset the other further, "Calm down." The taller looked behind him at Daxter, who honestly seemed a little frightened. Jak relaxed his arms, and Vin slipped out from under them, burying his nose in the electronics on the other side of the room.

"Now, uh, if you'll just e-excuse me, boys, I really must b-be getting back to work," he stuttered, not glancing over his hunched shoulders. Jak's blue eyes looked from the slip of paper to Vin.

"Thank you," he said.

"Oh! Oh, a-anytime," Vin called after them as Jak and Daxter made their way up the lift again.

"You alright buddy?" Dax asked, patting Jak on the head.

"Fine, fine," Jak said, glancing around for Krimzon guards as he stepped into the street. He looked up to see the green star closer and brighter than ever before, even in the bright haze. Daxter looked up too. "I just need to get to the Oracle. Somehow, I need to keep this in check. I can't let it get out of hand."

"But Jak," Daxter said, "the Oracle was destroyed in the bombing." A thought popped into Jak's head, and he took off down the ramp.

"I don't think so, but we can always check."

"With who?" But Daxter was never given an answer as Jak nicked another zoomer, and they stole off across the city.

-Several minutes of driving later-

"I wonder how many zoomers we've stolen over the years," Daxter thought aloud as Jak coasted into an alleyway. They were past the palace's outer gates, and back in the nicer part of the city. Jak laughed, jumping onto the pitted ground.

"Probably thousands," he said.

"More than that," Dax agreed. They made their way through the bazaar, where they had been before. The masses of people made it almost impossible to navigate though, but Jak knew his way well enough, and he had his mind one a set corner of the bazaar. Daxter looked around, until, slowly, the dreaded realization of where they were going struck him. "We're not going to the old wrinkly lady and her crazy bird, are we?"

"Dax, she's the only one who might have any clue as to what might have happened."

"The Soothsayer! Oh no! Jak!" he whined as they rounded a corner to find a big brown tent made of canvas, and Jak shook his head.

"What? Daxter, Onin is the only one who-" but Daxter cut him short.

"It's not the old hag I mind, but her bird-"

"Shh!" Jak silenced his friend as he pushed open the flap to the tent. A silence filled the tent, until a shrill Spanish accented voice cawed at them.

"Oh, great," said the blue, red, and yellow moncaw in the corner, "not you two again. You're the last ones I wanted to see." He flapped his fingered wings over to them, the three upright feathers on top of his head bouncing.

"Trust me, we ain't too thrilled to see you either, Birdie," Daxter said, jumping off Jak shoulder as he stepped into the stuffy tent. The light now came only from the candles and blue light radiating off of the dishes.

"We were around, so we thought we'd stop by. Besides," Jak said, "I have a question for Onin." The old woman, in turn, opened her colorless eyes, tipping her head at the two of them. She moved her hands around in the air, and Pecker watched carefully.

"She says it's good to see you survived the bombing," he translated, then scoffed to the side, "Though I would say different." Daxter made faces, but Jak was more mature about the whole situation, as he normally was. He listened as Pecker went on, "She knows you have something to ask her about that day, something inside the fire and the smoke and the wreckage of the Water Slums?" There. That was the window Jak had been looking for. It always astounded both of them, how much the Soothsayer knew, how she knew their names the first time they'd met.

"What about the Oracle? Was it destroyed in the explosion?" Jak asked. The Soothsayer made more extravagant hand gestures, and Pecker, turned back to the others.

"The Oracle's power is far stronger than the power of a few measly bombs, she says. It's has moved itself to a new location, outside the city's walls, yet very close to here. It lies in an old citadel in Haven Forest. Go there and..." He watched her again for a moment, before rolling his eyes. "In a nut shell, the Oracle is still fine, just weakened, and yada yada yada. Listen, if you go back, I'm sure you'll be able to find it fine. Why do you care, anyway?" Pecker asked, cocking his feathered head. Jak gave one last look at the Soothsayer before turning and opening the tent flap.

"The Precursors and us go way back," he said.

"Yeah, _wayyy_ back," Daxter threw in, looking around the tent one last time before Jak closed the flap behind them, and they were back out in the streets of the busy Bazaar. They walked around in the hot sun, going no where in particular. They were both fed up with the rebellion, but it had happened so many times before, that they knew it would pass soon. Until then, they took to rambling the city, cracking jokes with one another. Oh, sure they knew it was dangerous, but under the watchful eye of the Shadow, and feeding off their happy auras, they felt invincible.

"What do you mean you 'lost interest' in her? Ja-aaak, nobody just 'looses interest' with a girl like Kiera!" Daxter said, crawling to the other's opposite shoulder.

"I never said I lost interest in her!" Jak said, "I only said that right now isn't the best time-"

"Now is a good a time as any! Besides," Dax said, "if you don't get her, someone else will." Jak was about to retort something else back, when he saw a familiar squat figure move through an alley. Daxter followed his gaze.

"Samos," they both said in unison, and Jak took off after him. In the cool shade of a deserted open stoop, they watched the other looking around, and as he was about to step on into the streets, Daxter climbed atop a box and whistled to catch Samos's attention. It worked, for the other turned, a shocked look on his face. He glanced over his shoulder at the street before walking quickly over. Jak and Daxter met up with him in the middle.

"Jak?"' he asked, "Daxter?" And in that moment, Jak felt a ping inside him, some lost memory ringing out. He remembered that same voice calling to them in a hut basked in the hot sun. He needed to try again. "What are you boys doing here?" Samos asked. Jak walked right over to him, voice almost frantic.

"Samos, you're _sure_ you don't remember who we are? From, before we came to you in the Underground." The green man laughed, and Daxter's eyes grew wide, in hopes that the old man had remembered, but he was sadly disappointed.

"We've been over this a thousand times, I've never seen you two before the day you took out all those Metalheads out past the city limits, which I am still very grateful for."

"Oh Samos pleeeeese!" Daxter groaned, "Even I remember you!"

"You were a sage! The green eco sage of Sandover Village, don't you remember? You yelled at us for taking the fisherman's boat, you yelled at Daxter when he fell into the pit of dark eco on Misty Island. You helped defeat Gol and Maia in their citadel, before they flooded the world with eco!"

"Yeah," Dax put in, "and you promised me I'd be a human again!" Then he turned to Jak. "And for the record, I didn't fall, you knocked me in." Samos looked amused, but if either of the boys were paying any attention to the little details, they would have seen Samos's green fingers fiddling with a little charm at his belt.

"I hate to interrupt what would have been a very good story boys, but I must be going! The city needs our help, and they're not going to get it from two crazies like yourselves, babbling on about things that never happened!" That destroyed Jak a little inside. Denial. Again. Years of living in this crazy place, and their only connection to any way home was busy off fighting a war that wasn't even his to be any part of. Daxter crawled up onto Jak's shoulder.

"Come on," he said quietly, "we don't need him." Jak shook his head, and watched as Samos hurried down the rest of the alley, casting a glance over his shoulder. Turning, the pair walked back out into the streets, blending in with the rest of life for the moment. Even though there wasn't much life around, they blended in. All too comfortably they blended in with a dead city and a cracking superpower in charge.

"Why is he so ignorant all the time?" Jak asked, still upset about the whole ordeal.

"Maybe he just chose to forget?"

"But why would he do that? I mean, he practically raised us!"

"I know, Jakie, but ehe," he looked around, "we might wanna get going. Not piss Torn off anymore..."

"Yeah," Jak said absentmindedly, still looking down the alley after Samos. "Yeah, right." He started back down the alley, and then again out into the street where they mixed with the people and started out towards the towering palace.


End file.
